A Trio of Virtues: Theological Virtues
by Catlover
Summary: Second Part in the Trilogy. Superman and Batman's world is about to get a little bit crazier. Slash
1. Love

A Trio of Virtues

**Part II**

_**Theological Virtues**_

_...These three remain: Faith, Hope and Love. But the Greatest of these is Love._

_1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)_

-{()}-

Love

With each step, the wood creaked. He couldn't help but wonder if his foot would just fall right through the protesting lumber. Looking down suspiciously, his head immediately shot up as he was caught.

"Y'know, my pa replaces these boards every winter. He just doesn't weather seal them."

"Why does he do that?"

"So, I can hear city slickers and traveling salesmen before they ever make it up to knock on my front door."

Looking at the now open door, Bruce smiled. "Mr. Kent. It's nice to see you again, sir."

"Likewise, Bruce. Come on in. No need to be so formal. Just set yourself down. That must have been some flight. Not to mention the car ride."

"Yes well," Bruce began as he took off his coat. "We had to keep up appearances."

"The press has been following us pretty closely, Pa," Clark explained as he took Bruce's coat and hung it next to his own on the rack by the door. Quickly, he joined them in the living room and headed for the offered sofa.

Once Clark sat down beside him, Bruce placed his hand on his knee before he continued. "They've been crawling everywhere trying to find something juicier than that footage they keep recycling of us eating dinner together."

"I saw the video on the news. Do people just follow you around with cameras?"

"Everybody has a cell phone camera these days," Bruce replied with a shrug. "At least, they got my good side."

Raising his eyebrows, Jonathan mouthed "okay" as Martha Kent ran out of the kitchen. Making a bee-line for her son, she threw her arms around his shoulders, dragging him to her. As she lamented the hours, the days, the weeks since his last visit or phone call, Clark helplessly spurted apologies and explanations. Finally, she released him and his now tussled hair only to turn towards the man seated casually beside him.

Reclined on the sofa arm, Bruce shook with the strain of repressed laughter until he caught Martha Kent's eye. Then, he picked his chin off his fist just as he sat straighter. As she closed in, he cleared his throat and flashed a smile - A smile that faltered when she placed her hands on her hips and called him that man distracting her son away from her.

To her credit, she kept up the act for another thirty seconds before collapsing into a fit of giggles. Stumbling over to her husband, she used the corners of her apron to wipe tears from her eyes. Patting his chest, she slowly calmed herself. With a final, loud sigh, she clapped her hands once to get the room's attention.

"Clark, you go help your father finish the last minute chores around the farm. Bruce, you can come help me in the kitchen." With that, Clark stood up and followed his Father to the front door. Stunned, Bruce could only watch as Clark waved once before heading out into the cold. Taking in the shock on Bruce's face, Martha placed her hands on her hips and commanded, "Come on, everyone here works for their food. You can help me set the table."

Blinking rapidly, he stood up and followed her to the kitchen.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked up to the crowded stove and pointed to a small nook containing a standard size, rectangular dining table, four chairs and full-size china cabinet - all made out of oak. Walking over to the china cabinet, Bruce opened the top drawers and found placemats and napkins. Closing the drawers, he opened the next set and found a sterling silverware set and service. Looking through the glass doors of the cabinet, he saw the plates and bowls. Taking a hold of the knobs, he started to open the cabinet doors when he heard, "My mother gave us that china set as a wedding present."

Drawing in a deep breath, he opened the cabinet all the way. Carefully, but efficiently, he stacked salad plates on dinner plates and bread plates on salad plates. As he reached for bowls, he paused. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Will you be needing bowls?"

"No, nothing like that."

Taking the twelve part stack, he placed the plates on the corner of the table before turning back to the cabinet and gently closing the doors. Pulling open the top drawers, he pulled out four sets of placemats and napkins. He rummaged through the drawer a little, but failed to find napkin rings. With a shrug, he closed the drawer and turned back to the table. He put down four white cloth rectangles before reaching for the bread plates. Swiftly, he placed a plate in the upper left corner of each place setting. Setting the salad plates beside the dinner plates, he set a dinner plate in the center of each cloth, resting a salad plate on each dinner plate.

One at a time, he picked up a square cloth napkin. Folding it into a triangle, he twisted the cloth until it sat up elegantly as he placed it in the center of the salad plate. Taking a step back, he took in the sight of the molded cloth orchid. Satisfied, he quickly repeated his actions on the other three place settings.

Turning back to the cabinet, he pulled open the second set of drawers. He took out one set of silverware at a time, placing it properly on each placemat. As he turned to ask another question, he jumped back. Seated at the table, Martha Kent looked back at him. Without saying a word, she motioned to the next chair over. Stiffly, he complied and waited. Thankfully, he didn't wait long.

"I can tell you've done this before."

"Of course. I was raised by a butler, after all."

"You were about to ask me something before."

"Do you need me to ready a coffee service?"

"No, that's okay. Don't bother yourself."

"It's no bother. You have a service in the drawer that's sufficient to serve four."

"I noticed you didn't say full."

"That's because it's not. It's missing a teacup and a saucer."

"Yes, I know. Once, when Clark was four years old, he got into the drawers. I came in and found him with the whole service on the floor surrounding him in a half-circle. He was holding a teacup set at the time. I guess I startled him because he jumped and dropped the set. It shattered beyond repair. Oh, he cried the whole time he helped me clean up. Once the cup was in the trash, I sat him down and explained that while things are never more important than people, we should always be careful around other people's things."

"That's a nice story."

"What kind of stories do you have?"

"Nothing like yours. Holidays were difficult for a long time after my parents died. Alfred did his best, but it just wasn't the same."

"I see. How about before they died?"

"I suddenly realize where Clark gets his interviewing skills."

"Flattery will get you everywhere but out of this question."

"Okay," he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He sat quietly looking Martha directly in the eye, hoping she would flinch. She never did. Finally, he swallowed hard and softly said, "My parents were involved in many charities. The holidays were often punctuated by galas and charity dinners."

"No, I mean your family memories, not the public ones. We used to take Clark caroling every Christmas, but that's not what made for the dearest memories."

Twirling the corner of a placemat, Bruce considered her words. As he twisted the soft cloth between his fingertips, he recalled, "We always had Thanksgiving dinner in the main dining room. Without leaves, the table can seat twelve people, but we didn't even use half of it. We sat huddled on one end, close enough to talk quietly and touch easily. I'd..."

Quietly, he found her hand comforting. As it laid across his, stilling his fidgeting. Gently, she warmed his skin, patting it softly. As his eyes met hers, she offered, "You could call me Ma, if you want."

"Thank you. That's very kind, but..." Letting go of the placemat, he quickly took her hand in his. "I've only ever called one woman Mother and she's the only one I ever will."

"I completely understand."

As they smiled, they heard the Kent men enter the house. Standing, their hands squeezed once more before parting. Suddenly, Martha was all business again. Back at her stove, she stirred and turned off burners. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, "Can you go and tell them that the food is ready?"

Dinner, for the most part, was pleasant. The food was simple, but perfectly cooked. While Clark and Jonathan seemed to be in a contest over who could shovel in the most food, Bruce was a bit more discerning. He took two perfectly cut slices of turkey breast, a large helping of roasted potatoes and vegetables and a modest portion of stuffing. His one indulgence was Martha's cornbread. By the end of the night, he had three pieces.

Of course, Martha Kent went about interrogating Bruce in her usual way. She wasn't shy and showed no fear as she asked question after question about Bruce's past, his present and his plans for the future. Finally, a day's worth of work and the excitement of the day caught up to her. After her chin slipped off her knuckles for the second time, Jonathan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and shook her awake enough to steer her away from the table and make her way upstairs.

Alone at last, Bruce and Clark waited to speak until they heard a bedroom door click shut. Turning to each other, they glanced around and nodded. Together, they stood up and cleared the table. As Clark prepared the dishwater, Bruce brought the pots and pans over from the stove.

Carefully, they washed and dried the china, returning it to the cabinet. In rolled up sleeves, Clark washed the pots and pans, leaving them to dry on the draining tray. As he let the water down the drain, he felt two arms wrap around his waist. Leaning back against a strong chest, he grabbed a dishtowel and dried his hands. Softly humming under his breath, Clark gasped as lips ghosted across the ridge of his ear.

Turning around, he pulled Bruce into a fierce embrace. Kissing, hugging, clawing and tugging at any flesh in sight, their eyes met as they leaned in for a kiss. There was no need for words. They both knew what the other wanted.

In a burst of super speed, Clark turned off all the lights in the house and returned to Bruce's side. Taking Bruce's hand, he led him up the stairs to his old bedroom. Opening the door, he let Bruce enter first. Clark leaned against the door jamb as he watched Bruce take in the room.

Walking over to the tall dresser across the room, Bruce paused to examine a collection of high school sport trophies. Glancing back at the doorway, he shook his head as he took in the pennants and posters on the walls. Leaning against the dresser, he observed, "You were quite the little joiner, weren't you?"

"What can I say?"

"You did football, baseball and track?"

"Yeah. Didn't you play sports in high school?"

"I attended an English boarding school. They had a rugby team and a soccer team, but I wasn't on either of them. I tended to keep to myself."

"I would have thought you would be big man on campus. You are Bruce Wayne, after all."

"Oh, you mean I'm fantastically rich. Well, at an English boarding school, everyone is fantastically rich so money doesn't make you stand out much."

"That's not what I meant." Pushing off the door jamb, Clark closed the door. Crossing the room, he walked up to Bruce and placed his hands on his hips. Pulling him closer, he whispered, "I mean you're _BRUCE WAYNE._ You're the Human man who everyone knows is Human but instills more fear in the heart of a criminal than any other member of the league. The man who didn't blink once before tossing me across the room the first time we met."

Watching pride and awe dance across Clark's face, Bruce waited until he finished speaking before he drew him down for a quick kiss. One kiss became another. Each subsequent kiss became deeper until they melted into each other. As the intensity of the moment became overwhelming, a most undignified whimper escaped Bruce's lips as Clark pulled away.

With his index finger pressed against soft lips, Clark nodded to the right and tapped his left ear. The message was clear and it made Bruce grin. Drawing closer, Bruce proceeded to kiss his way down the body before him.

As he felt liquid heat surround his erection, Clark flung his head back. Once the humming and low, guttural moans began, he pressed his wrist to his mouth and dug his fingers into jet black hair. As his need became urgent, he couldn't stop the groan that flew out of him as Bruce pulled away. His body on fire. He could hear his blood pumping through his body as Bruce quietly disrobed.

With pants and shirt piled on the floor, Bruce turned toward the twin size bed. Advancing, he stopped a foot from the bed and knelt down. Placing his hands on the mattress, he looked over his shoulder at Clark and waited.

Stroking his erection, Clark paused long enough to grab a lotion bottle. Squeezing its contents into his palm, he prepared himself first. Kneeling behind Bruce, he quickly prepared him as well.

Gently, he kissed the space between Bruce's shoulder blades as he entered him. Once fully-sheathed, he wrapped his hands around Bruce's shoulders and pressed his forehead against the spot he just graced with a kiss.

Straining against one another, sweat slick fingers slipped down slippery skin until they once again gained purchase at the swell of the biceps. Digging into the hard muscle found there, he rode on furiously, nearing completion. With a final painful squeeze, Clark arched his back and found release as he pressed Bruce against the bed.

Coming down, his grip loosened. Over a map of scars covering Bruce's back, his fingers paused to trace the deeper ones. Down his flanks where the tingle of his fingertips made soft laughter erupt. Finally, taking hard flesh in hand, he worked at bringing Bruce to completion. Pressing tender kisses to shaking shoulders, he felt the moment Bruce let go as the body beneath him tensed, pushing back against him.

Finally, they collapsed beside the bed. Sinking to the carpet, they sat side by side, panting while they lightly brushed their fingers across trembling skin. Softly, Bruce ran his fingertips up Clark's neck, pausing to cup the chiseled chin as he whispered, "That wasn't the first time we met."

"What?"

"That time, in the restaurant. It wasn't the first time we met. The first time was at the airport."

"I didn't think you even noticed me at the airport."

"I notice everything, Clark."

Laughing softly, Clark smiled easily until his eyes caught the speckled skin on Bruce's arms. Narrowing his eyes, he examined the wounds that would be blackened bruises by morning.

"Bruce, I'm so sor-"

The fingers pressed to his lips stopped his apology. With a shake of his head, Bruce coolly countered, "Don't. Don't ever apologize for what happens when we make love."

"But..."

"But, nothing. Being able to bruise is a part of my human condition."

"Bruce, I-"

Again, fingertips returned to his lips.

"I know. I love you, too."

The smile he received in response was like none he had ever seen before. It stretched across Clark's face and reached up to brighten the blue of his eyes. It seemed to light up the whole room and yet be reserved for him and him alone. Cupping Clark's cheek, he pulled until they sealed this new revelation with a kiss.

Breaking away, Clark stood up. Pulling Bruce to his feet, they climbed into the ridiculously small bed. After much tossing and turning, they finally settled down with Clark's back pressed against the wall and Bruce balancing precariously on the edge. Wrapping a strong arm around Bruce's waist, Clark whispered, "Don't worry about falling. I've got you."

Snuggling into the body behind him and the pillow beneath his head, Bruce sighed, "I know."


	2. Hope

AUTHOR'S NOTE: At this point I would like to warn my readers. From this point on, this story is an MPREG. If you don't like that sort of thing, you can stop now and you're left with a lovely story of Bruce and Clark falling in love. That said, I hope you will continue reading and give this story a shot.

HOPE

Stretching slowly, Bruce let consciousness come to him slowly. Comfortably splayed out in the middle of the bed, he knew Clark was up already. Eyes still closed, he listened for any nearby sounds and frowned when he didn't hear any. Then, he heard rapid footsteps climb up the stairs. Smiling again, he figured Clark just realized he was awake.

But, he was wrong.

Sharp and loud, a thunderous knocking rang out. Hysterical, Martha's voice screamed, "Bruce! Bruce, come quick. Clark's collapsed."

Up and dressed in an instant, he pulled the door open. Martha didn't hesitate. She turned on her heel at the sight of him and proceeded to run down the stairs. Out the front door, she ran past the barn, across a small pasture and disappeared into a cornfield. All the while, Bruce followed closely behind her, stopping only when they came to the back of the cornfield. There, beside a halfway patched fence, laid Clark.

Advancing slowly, he knelt down. Clark looked pale, but his skin didn't have the sick greenish pallor that accompanied kryptonite poisoning. Touching his face, he noted that the normally above average warmth was considerably cooled. Looking up at the Kents, he asked, "What happened?"

"We were repairing the fence when suddenly he just staggered off to the side and fell. I called for Ma and she ran for you," answered Jonathan as he pulled the crying woman closer to him.

Pulling a small black box from his pocket, Bruce stood up and pushed the transit button. He nodded when he heard J'onn's voice.

"Watchtower here. How can I assist you, Batman?"

"J'onn, I need you to clear the medical wing of anyone who isn't a founding member."

"That will be difficult. Blue Beetle was brought in a couple hours ago with extensive injuries."

"Do it anyway. I'm with Superman. He needs to be transported directly to the medical bay and neither of us is in uniform."

"Understood," came the only response after a significant pause.

Kneeling beside Clark again, Bruce looked at the Kents and said, "As soon as I know anything, I'll contact you."

"We're ready for you, Batman."

"I'm beside Superman. Activate transport."

A circle of light surrounded them and a second later they were gone.

At the Watchtower, Bruce grabbed Clark and dragged him up his feet. He recognized the room as one of the operating rooms in the medical bay. Once he had Clark on his feet, J'onn entered the room, locking the door behind him. Taking a hold of Clark, he easily lifted him onto the surgical bed.

After a quick recount of the morning's events, they worked. Running test after test, they could find no cause for Clark's unconscious state. They found no residual radiation. They found no evidence of any poisoning at all. Clark's dense molecular structure rendered x-rays and internal scanners worthless. Through it all, Clark laid there, breathing softly. Beyond his paleness, he showed no signs of distress. He appeared to be sleeping comfortably.

"You say he just passed out. I can find no good reason for it. Perhaps JLA technology is simply inadequate to diagnose his condition."

"You're right. I have to take him to his fortress."

Placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder, J'onn assured, "Get him on one of the gurneys. I'll clear the corridors from here to the hanger. Wait until I contact you."

With a single nod, Bruce agreed. After J'onn left, Bruce returned to Clark's side. Placing his hand on his forehead, he let his hand slide up into silky curls. Leaning forward, he whispered, "I know you're in there somewhere. Just hold on. I'll find a way to help you. I'm not losing you yet."

At the Fortress of Solitude, Bruce landed the Batwing just outside the large door. Pulling Clark from the jet, he managed to cross over to the door and place Clark's hand against it. Immediately, the door opened and Kelex hovered out. The Kryptonian service robot quietly assessed the situation before turning his back on them and motioning for Bruce to follow.

Once inside, several other service robots filed in and surrounded them. Each took a hold of Kal-El as they kept calling him. They lifted him up and carried him over to the science lab. They placed him in a bio pod and closed the hatch. The computer systems in the room roared to life. Kelex took his place at the main computer station. A few other robots remained to work various controls, but the rest left without a word.

Once the robots had taken Clark, Bruce remained in the background. Listening to them converse in Kryptonian, he followed quietly. The only word he recognized was "Kal-El" and only because Clark had told him once that Kal-El was his Kryptonian birth name.

In the science lab, he stood by the door. He watched the robots work. If the moment wasn't so dire, he would have laughed as the diminutive machines floated by, their long, two fingered hands clacking as they performed their duties. The bobble effect of their cone shaped heads and large, round crystal faces had Bruce nodding absently as they passed by him.

Finally, the bio pod opened and Clark stumbled out of it completely naked. A service robot appeared at his side and handed him one of his spare Superman suits. Pulling it on, he started to stumble as he pulled the tights up.

Instantly, Bruce was at his side.

Without words, Bruce helped him finish dressing. With a firm arm wrapped around Clark's waist, Bruce steered him over to a nearby command chair. Once seated, Clark laid his head back and closed his eyes. He moaned for a second before looking up at Bruce. It took a moment for his blurred vision to clear. With a smile, he nodded and asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember doing morning chores with my Pa. We...We were patching the back fence. I was driving the poles into the ground. I turned to grab another one and the whole world spun. After that everything went dark until I woke up in the bio pod."

"It seems you fainted."

"That's impossible," he replied with a sneer. Sitting up straighter, he countered, "I don't get sick and I certainly don't faint."

"Don't kill the messenger," replied Bruce as he placed his hand palm down across Clark's forehead, feeling that his body temperature had mostly returned to its normal warmth. Although the man seated before him was clearly exhausted, he was no longer pale. Glancing over at the service robots, he saw they were still working at the computer controls. Looking back at Clark, he stated, "I don't know what happened to you, but I think they do."

Narrowing his eyes, Clark sat forward. Placing his hands on the armrests, he called out in a commanding voice, "Kelex. Zgham."

The small robot stopped what he was doing and flew over to Clark. Stopping right in front of him, the robot bowed his head and said, "Zhi, Kal-El cheh."

"Fehl," commanded Clark. The robot looked up at him while lights on its head blinked on and off. Turning with its body first, Kelex flew over to the station he just left and started pushing buttons.

Before them, a view screen appeared. First, a picture of the planet Krypton appeared. Kelex began his report. Then, a series of pictures appeared showing sad and forlorn Kryptonians holding small bundles in their arms or standing beside small pods. Next, a picture of a Kryptonian man appeared. It was a formal portrait and showed the man standing with his right hand raised up, the image of an atom resting in his open hand.

The next picture made a distinct chill of doom run up Bruce's spine. As the entire thing was in Kryptonian, Bruce could only watch and try to glean what information he could from the pictures that accompanied the presentation. However, there could be little doubt about the meaning behind the picture currently displayed. There on the screen was a man who in every way resembled Clark. If not for the green track suit and the matching headband, he might have believed it was Clark. Instead, he figured it must be Jor-El, Clark's father. That, of course, was not what bothered him. No, rather, it was the man's prominent stomach. Glancing down at Clark, he started to feel a little light-headed as he watched Clark place a hand over his lower abdomen.

Quickly, the screen disappeared only to be replaced by a hologram. A beautiful brunette appeared. She was dressed in a simple white and silver gown. The hologram walked up to them and started speaking. Her face was kind and her voice gentle. By the end of her speech, she seemed excited.

Staring up at his birth-mother, Clark felt sick. He kept glancing up at Bruce and was amazed the man was still standing there. He knew Bruce was smart enough to have figured out the subject of Kelex's presentation. Finally, Lara stopped speaking and stood there looking at him expectantly. It was at this lull that Bruce found his voice.

"Do you want to explain all that?"

"I'm not sure I can."

"Try," demanded Bruce as Clark stood up and started to pace. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed that the hologram was following Clark's movements. Clark seemed to mutter to himself, his hand still placed over his abdomen. Bruce allowed this for a minute before he asked, "Clark, what did Kelex say?"

Stopping in mid-step, Clark looked back at Bruce. He swallowed twice before he answered, "Long ago, on Krypton, there was a medical crisis. The Kryptonian population suffered from an inability to procreate. At first, the women lost the ability to conceive naturally. They used a form of in vitro fertilization to overcome the problem. Then, the women lost the ability to carry a child to term.

"The population decreased by half before a prominent scientist by the name of Kru-Zan came up with a solution. He genetically altered Kryptonian males to be able to carry a fetus to term. His testing had revealed the problem was environmental. There was a chemical that attacked hormones women only produced when they were pregnant. Kru-Zan traced the chemical to an engineered source, but by then, also discovered that it so permeated the planet that removing it was impossible.

"Initially, he tried altering female bio-chemistry but found his attempts were unsuccessful. Either the female test subjects died as a result of the procedure or both the female test subject and her mate died because the procedure changed the female's biological signature, making her unable to maintain her bond with her bondmate.

"So, he turned to the male portion of the population. He found he was able to endow them with the ability to procreate without changing their bio-signature and also without employing the hormones the chemical disrupted. Every man on Krypton was ordered to undergo the procedure.

"As a result, the population surged back. Several generations passed and eventually the male population didn't have to be medically altered. Slowly, boys were born with the ability at birth. By the time of my planet's demise, this was the rule more so than the exception."

Walking up to Bruce, Clark placed his hands on his shoulders. Looking him square in the eye, he said, "I don't know any other way to say this, but to say it. I'm pregnant."

Bruce just stood there. Just. Stood. There. Nothing. He said nothing. His face was blank. His body was rigid.

"Bruce?"

No response.

"Bruce?"

Nothing.

"Bruce!"

Blinking rapidly, Bruce took in a deep breath after Clark yelled his name. Taking a couple steps back, he broke away from Clark's hold. Glancing at the hologram that was still following them around the room with her eyes, his scientific mind kicked in. Squaring his shoulders, he looked back at Clark and asked, "Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes, the test results are clear."

"Is the fetus viable? Does the computer even know if Kryptonian and Human genes are compatible?"

Quickly, Clark's face scrunched up. Walking away, he approached the hologram. Motioning first to himself and then to Bruce, he said, "Ieiu? Tanahnoo zhehiodia khuhp tiv aos fis? Tiv Nahn zhaolum Rth."

Smiling serenely, she answered. Clark thanked her and turned back to Bruce. "She says the computers have already examined the child. Human and Kryptonian genetics are generally compatible. This child specifically is healthy. She foresees no problems."

"How long have you known about this? How long have you known that you have this ability?"

"The first I heard about it was Kelex's report."

"All this time, all these years, that robot never told you this before."

"Never. My parents never took me to a doctor. They feared that I'd be taken away from them. My birth mother, Lara, just told me that they always hoped I would have children but didn't think it possible because I was bonded to Lois. They didn't know she was dead. They didn't think it was something that would ever happen."

"So they decided you didn't need this information."

"Yeah."

"Just like that."

"I'm afraid so. I've told you before. The fortress does this sort of thing a lot."

"That's great. That's just great. I want to take a sledgehammer to this place."

"I know. Me, too."

"I see," replied Bruce. Wrapping both hands around the base of his skull, he shut his eyes tightly. For a moment, he just stood there, breathing deeply, before he looked Clark directly in the eyes and asked, "So what do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you keeping it?"

"Do you not want me to?"

"This doesn't really involve me."

"What? This is your child, too."

"Excuse me, Clark, but I'm an American man raised post-Roe v. Wade. All my life I've been taught that it's not my choice. I don't get a say. I just have to live with whatever you choose."

"Oh, I see. Well, what do you want to do?"

"I want to go back in time and tell my past self to wear a condom before we have sex. Of course, I didn't think my male lover could get pregnant and, since you're Kryptonian, I knew you wouldn't be carrying any diseases so I just left the packets in the drawer. Now, I wish I hadn't."

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I swear I didn't know."

"I know, Clark. I know you didn't know. It's not your fault and I'm not blaming you. It's just that I've always been very careful to avoid this very thing."

"Oh."

"Yes. So, what are you going to do?"

"I still want to know what you want."

"I never wanted biological children. A small child, a baby, is not compatible with my mission. There's a reason both of my sons were older when I adopted them. They didn't require extreme care. They didn't take from my ability to guard Gotham. Later, Dick proved to be trainable, gifted, as if he was born to be a crime fighter. Jason never showed the same prowess but he learned quickly and was very determined. They aided in my mission, but a baby could never do that."

"There's more to life than a mission, Bruce."

"Not for me. Look, Clark, when this started, when I agreed to bond with you, it was under the premise that being with you didn't get in the way of my mission. As we got closer, as our feelings got involved, I reasoned that I could always pull away if those feelings hindered my mission in any way. But, this... This isn't something one can return. If this child gets in the way of my mission, I can't send it back. I can't undo it as if it never happened. So, if you ask me what I want then I say I don't want this. I think you should have an abortion and we should be more careful in the future."

Looking down, Clark quickly shut his eyes. Placing a hand over his stomach, he stepped back. Turning back to the hologram, he softly ordered, "Ewuhsh."

Quickly, the hologram faded away. Opening his eyes, he just stared at the empty space where his mother once stood. Slowly, he backed away until he came to his chair and sank down in it. Looking down at his clasped hands, he spoke softly, "I didn't expect you to jump for joy, but I certainly didn't expect that."

Cautiously, Bruce approached him. Crouching down, he covered Clark's hands with his right hand and tried to assure him. "Clark, I told you. I'll go along with whatever you choose to do."

"I think you should go now."

"Not without you, Clark."

"I'll get home by myself."

"You passed out from doing farm work. What do you think is going to happen if you try to fly? Come on, I'll fly you back to your parent's farm in the Batwing."

Clark shook his head before, after a heavy sigh, he nodded. Standing up, he made his way to the door. As he passed Bruce, he shrugged off the offered hand.

In the end, Clark opted to be returned to his apartment in Metropolis. Cloaked in darkness, Bruce hovered over the roof of Clark's apartment building. Wearing clothes Bruce loaned him, Clark jumped from the Batwing. He heard Bruce remind him to call his Mother and tell her he was alright. Clark laughed at that as he walked away from the plane. Crossing the rooftop, he didn't look back as he opened the roof entry door.

The trip back to Gotham seemed to take longer than usual, but the clock on his control panel said otherwise. Landing the jet inside the bat cave hanger, Bruce sat in the pilot seat for several minutes until a gentle rapping on the hull brought him back to reality. Looking down, he saw Alfred. Opening the hatch, he jumped out and took the cup of coffee Alfred offered to him.

As Bruce sipped the coffee, Alfred stared at him. He was not used to seeing Bruce in one of his machines while out of costume. Stranger still, he was wearing the same clothes he wore when he left the day before. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were tired. Placing a hand on Bruce's back, Alfred steered him back into the manor.

Inside the library, Alfred prepared the side table by clearing a few items and placing a coaster down for Bruce's mug. Turning to the armchair, he fluffed the cushions as he looked over at Bruce. Standing up straight, he watched as Bruce gravitated toward the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

"Sir, your chair is ready."

Clearly, Bruce was distracted as he didn't respond to Alfred's question. He didn't answer the soft calling of his name, but he jumped when Alfred placed his hand on his shoulder. Meeting Alfred's concerned eyes, he smiled sadly. Crossing the room, he collapsed into the chair, dropping the mug in his hand onto the coaster.

"Is there something bothering you, Master Bruce?"

"Yes, Alfred. There is."

"Do you wish to speak of it, sir?"

Conflicted, Bruce sat there in silence. After a couple minutes, Alfred shook his head and turned away. He almost reached the doorway before he heard, "Alfred."

Without hesitation, Alfred walked over to the armchair on the other side of the side table and sat down. Once he sat down, Bruce leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. For the next hour, Bruce told Alfred everything. He explained to him the concept of bondmates. He gave a basic breakdown of his and Clark's relationship. Finally, he told him about Clark fainting at the Kent farm and the revelation of his pregnancy at the fortress.

Through it all, Alfred was silent. Except for the occasional nod, he sat motionless until Bruce stopped speaking. Then, with his left hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. Leaning back, he rested his hands on the armrests and asked, "What now?"

"I left him at his apartment. I told him a baby wouldn't fit into my life. My mission asks too much of me. He didn't say he's keeping the baby, but I suspect that is what he will do."

Sitting forward, Alfred stared at Bruce for a while before he said, "Beg my pardon, but when are you going to wake up?"

"What?"

"Let me speak as you have apparently said quite enough already. Over the years, I've watched your obsession with this mission grow. I've watched you push people away because of it. I've stood idly by as you isolated yourself, but I'm done with that now.

"Sadly, I am partly to blame for your dependence on this mission of yours. When the mission first emerged, I welcomed it because shortly thereafter I stopped finding you huddled on the floor beneath that portrait. Then, as you grew older, the mission gave you structure. I was relieved that it kept you from becoming the self-centered playboy you so often pretend to be now.

"I know the mission was born of your parent's traumatic death. It was a way for you to make sense of it all and to assuage the guilt you feel over the circumstances of that night. You've investigated their murders. The ones responsible have all faced judgment in their own way, yet you still wallow in your guilt. Frankly, it seems you have spent far too much time dwelling on the circumstances of their deaths, on the idea that your parents died because of you. Sadly, not nearly enough attention has been paid to the reality that your parents died for you.

"When the police called that night, I was shocked, but not surprised. I knew your parents well. I have never seen two people who loved their child more than they did. Like all parents, they had hopes and dreams for you. They wanted all the good things for you that their wealth could provide. But more, they wanted greater things for you. They wanted you to have the things they had. They wanted love, family and purpose for you. Most importantly, they wanted life for you. That's why they got in the way of those four bullets, but they would have taken a thousand bullets if it meant you would be safe."

Reaching across the short distance separating them, Alfred placed his hand on Bruce's arm and continued, "Bruce, they did it because you meant everything to them. You are their ultimate legacy, their final gift to the world. It is something all parents feel and it is a feeling with which I suspect you will soon be very familiar."

Nodding, Bruce placed a hand over Alfred's hand. Patting the weathered, wrinkled skin, he pulled back. He saw the sadness in Alfred's eyes but said nothing until the man stood to leave.

"Alfred, could you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Could you retrieve my father's wedding ring from the safe?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, a smile spreading his lips thin. A renewed bounce in his step, he left only to return a few minutes later with a jeweler's box in one hand and Bruce's overcoat in the other. Stepping up to Bruce, he handed over the box and then opened up the coat. "I took the liberty of fetching your coat, sir."

"Thank you, Alfred. As always, you know what I need before I do," said Bruce as he turned and ran his arms down the sleeves.

Smoothly, Alfred's hands pulled the coat up his arms, resting it on his shoulders. As he smoothed out the back, he stilled as Bruce reached up and grabbed a hold of his hand. As their eyes met, Bruce whispered, "Thank you, old friend. For everything."

"No thanks required, sir."

"Still," countered Bruce. Holding up the box, he smiled warily as he said, "Wish me luck."

"Of course, sir."

With that, Bruce raced from the room. Alfred followed slowly, watching him descend the grand staircase and disappear into the foyer. As he heard the door open and quickly shut, he squeezed his right hand into a fist and cheered, "Go get him, sir."

Even in his fastest car, it took nearly half an hour to drive to Metropolis. He felt every single minute of the trip. Parking in front of the apartment building at 1938 Sullivan Place, Bruce wasted no time. He slammed the car door shut and ran into the building. Outside Clark's door, he took a moment to compose himself before he knocked on the door.

After a few seconds, he knocked again. Again, he received no response. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Clark, open the door. I know you're in there. I left you on the roof one hour and forty-eight minutes ago. It was already late and it is highly unlikely you left your apartment. For one, the frequency of public transportation has reduced significantly. Two, the mat in front of your door shows signs of recent use, but only in one direction. There is a footprint in it that matches your shoe make and size. The toe of the shoe is pointed toward the door. Three-"

Quickly, the door opened.

"Stop. Please stop. Before you start talking about how the temperature in the hallway is a degree higher than it should be because of my heightened body temperature."

"Well," sighed Bruce as he leaned against the door jamb. "You are really hot."

Tilting his head to the side, Clark arched an eyebrow and asked, "Why are you here, Bruce?"

In lieu of a spoken response, Bruce went down on one knee. At that same moment, one of the doors down the hall opened with an audible gasp. They both looked down the hall to see Mrs. Bannion standing in her doorway wearing an old robe and a worn out nightgown. The three of them exchanged shocked stares until Mrs. Bannion's expression soured.

Cocking his head to the side, Bruce glared at the woman before turning his head and looking up at Clark. Taking Clark's hand, he drew Clark's attention as they heard a door slam.

"Clark, will-"

"Bruce, wait," ordered Clark. Shaking his head, he pulled his hand away. "I know you have a great sense of responsibility, but I don't want you to do this as some virtuous sacrifice. You don't need to do that. We'll be fine."

"I'm not trying to be a martyr," he replied as he placed his hands on his knee. "I'm just trying to ask you a question."

"What brought this on? Really. What's changed in the past two hours?"

"Everything and nothing, really. Just. . . I realized that I've been wrong about a lot of things. About one thing, in particular. I've spent most of my life preventing this very thing. I thought of emotional entanglements as traps that were to be dismissed as an ache best avoided . I took many steps to remove myself from the possibility of them, but I don't want to do that anymore."

"What about your mission? Is there any place in it for us?"

"I think," answered Bruce. Reaching up, he gently took a hold of Clark's hand again. "I think it's time for me to find a new mission, one that includes the both of you. For years, my life suffered from a large void due to my parents' deaths. I've used my mission as a way to fill that void, as a way to ignore the pain of that loss, but I don't need to do that anymore. I don't need to live in the past. I have a future to look forward to now and all I'm ever going to need is already here."

Holding Clark's doubt-filled gaze, Bruce reached into his left coat pocket and pulled out a bijoux box. Opening the lid with an audible snap, Bruce paused as he looked down at the gold band accented with onyx inlay and a center set, square cut diamond. Pulling his eyes back to Clark, he softly said, "This is my Father's wedding ring. It is a cherished heirloom and I want you to have it. I want to see it on your hand and know that it means we're a family. Please Clark, will you marry me?"

The shock on Clark's face said it all. Quietly, Bruce waited for a response. What he got was a hand wrapping around his own a second before he has pulled up to his feet and soundly kissed. He let the kiss continue for a moment before he broke away and asked, "I hate to be a stickler for tradition, but was that a yes?"

"Of course," replied Clark as he placed his hands on Bruce's face and kissed him again. Pulling him inside the apartment, he closed the door behind them before he whispered against soft lips, "Of course, I'll marry you."


	3. Faith

Faith

As one can imagine, if you decide the day after Thanksgiving to get married in a week, there is a lot to do. First, you have to get the formalities out of the way. A marriage license is required and both parties have to appear. Second, you have to decide on a date, a place and a time. Third, you have to tell everyone and, by everyone, I mean family, friends, co-workers and anyone else you might want to invite or just want to tell. Finally, you have to do business. You have to secure a location, an officiant and a place to eat afterwards.

You must do all this and you must do it all in seven days.

If you're Bruce Wayne, you must also do all this in seven days while still being Batman.

That weekend, Bruce spent a lot of time on the phone. His first call was to Alfred. The butler spoke with a smile in his voice as he assured Bruce that Wayne Manor would be prepared for a private reception by the following Friday.

Next, he called Dick. After he told his son the news, he set him to task. Dick agreed and said he'd bring Barbara with him.

Incredibly, the part that concerned Bruce the most was the most mundane. As a celebrity, he loathed the idea of entering a public office and acquiring a license. Clark explained the basics and performed the online application that first night. Bruce got on the phone with a few choice politicians and managed to get a private appointment at the city clerk's office first thing Monday morning.

The next two days were filled with calls to airports, pilots, limousine operators, and custom tailors. He split his time between taking calls, kicking back one coffee after another and performing his superhero duties. He made a trip to Gotham Saturday morning to get in uniform. After that, he spent the majority of the weekend as Batman.

Between Gotham and Metropolis, the Batwing logged a lot of miles. Bruce spent Saturday night patrolling Gotham and Sunday morning guarding Metropolis. Throughout it all, his earpiece was abuzz. As usual, he endured it all with his usual unflappable style. He even held a prolonged discussion with the pilot of his company jet while he apprehended four thugs who attempted to rob an armored car.

Due to his condition, Superman was temporarily out of commission, but the villians of Metropolis didn't know that. The weekend was mostly quiet except for an attempted break-in at a Federal Reserve building conducted by Toyman. Batman appeared at the scene, knocking Winslow Schott out of the fifty foot tall, fully articulated replica of the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man he was operating at the time. Some people scratched their heads at the presence of the Dark Knight in their city, but most didn't blink an eye.

As the sun set on Sunday night, Bruce concluded his last phone call to an old family friend - A New York Judge who agreed without hesitation to perform the wedding for Martha and Thomas' little boy. The kind hearted man offered his courtroom as the wedding site and Bruce readily agreed. Ending the call, Bruce let Clark take the device out of his hand and set it to charge before guiding him to bed.

Of course, Monday brought its own set of concerns.

With the morning appointment out of the way, they had a late breakfast before they made their way to the airport. Just before noon, they stood looking out a bay of windows at Metropolis International Airport's private jet terminal. Quietly, they watched the Wayne Enterprises jet safely land and taxi across the runway. Once the plane came to a stop, they left the waiting area and crossed over to greet their guests.

With a loud slam, the plane door flew open revealing Bruce's trusted pilot. The man lifted his hand and saluted at Bruce before lowering the stairs. He ducked back in the plane and Dick appeared in his place at the hatch. He descended two stairs before turning to reach inside the plane and take a feminine hand. Barbara was all smiles as she sailed past him, brushing against him as she did. As her foot hit the last step, she saw Clark and Bruce waiting. Kicking into a full run, she raced over to them and flung herself at them.

"Bruce! Clark!" An arm wrapped around their necks, she hugged them tightly. Pressing a kiss to both of their cheeks, she hugged them one last time as she whispered, "I'm so happy for you. Congratulations!"

Gently, they lowered her to the ground. Smiling at her youthful exuberance, Bruce pulled her into his arms as Clark looked up at the hatch. There stood his parents. Reflexively, he placed a hand on his stomach. Paling considerably, he noticed the concern that flashed across his Mother's eyes as she descended the stairs and made a bee-line for his side.

"Clark? What's wrong, son?"

Glancing back and forth between her and his father, Clark stuttered, "N-Nothing. Nothing's w-wrong, M-Ma."

"Bull-hockey," said Martha as she stared at him.

"Now, Ma," came a sympathetic sigh. Patting her on the shoulder, he pulled her attention away with a kiss on her forehead. As her eyes turned to him, he ran a finger under her chin and reminded her of years past. "Don't you remember the way you were before we got married? You nearly drove your Mother batty. She didn't know whether to worry or wonder when it came to you."

"I think she considered commitment of an entirely different nature when she came downstairs one night to find me dancing with a hat rack trying to practice for our first dance."

As Jonathan pulled her into his strong embrace, they all laughed at the picture the memory created. As their laughter faded, a limousine pulled up. Quickly, airport employees transferred luggage from the plane into the trunk. Once the bags were loaded, the limo driver approached the group and informed them that they were ready to depart.

Together, they filed into the car. The Kents sat down on the side facing the driver and Barbara slid in next to them, sitting beside Martha. Dick moved quickly down to the window seat on the rear-facing side. Finally, Bruce and Clark entered.

Feeling an elbow in his side, Bruce looked over at Dick and saw the question shining from his eyes before it was ever asked.

"Where's Alfred?"

"Don't worry, Dick. He'll be here. He's in Gotham preparing the Manor for the reception, but he'll be driving out on Wednesday."

"Alfred? Is that the man you were telling us about Dick?"

"Yes, Mrs. Kent," replied Dick as he leaned forward in order to look at Clark. "Boy, I see where you get those investigative skills, Clark. This woman questioned me mercilessly all the way here from Smallville."

"Don't exaggerate, young man."

"Exaggerate? With all due respect, Mrs. Kent, I do not exaggerate. Bruce, I'm going to have to warn you. She grilled me thoroughly and I think we may have to change the security codes back at the manor."

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Bruce as he fought to control his laughter. He didn't want to be rude but the look on Martha's face was just priceless. Finally composing himself, he patted Dick on the arm and asked, "How was the flight? Did you have any trouble securing the jet?"

"I think I can handle a jet, Bruce," answered Dick with a roll of his eyes. Seeing the warning fill Bruce's face, he rolled his eyes once more before he continued, "Everything went off without a hitch. See - Happy Kents sitting across from us as we speak."

"Yeah, about that," chimed in Barbara. "It's a good thing I came along. I tell you for all the things men are good for, understanding the importance of a well-packed overnight bag is not one of them."

"You can say that again, dear," laughed Martha as she took a hold of Barbara's hand and squeezed it. "Thanks again for going with me to the store for those last minute things."

"It was my pleasure, Martha."

"Was the flight okay for you Ma? Pa?"

"Oh, it was just fine, son. I couldn't hardly believe it when we boarded it. I don't think I've ever been in something that fancy. I was afraid to wrinkle it, but it sure did have some comfortable seats," answered Jonathan.

"And your son and his young lady were perfect company, Bruce," added Martha.

"I'm glad to hear they were on their best behavior."

"Dick told me everything about how you adopted him."

"Everything?" asked Bruce as he glanced over at Dick. At Dick's nod, he sat back and looked over at Martha.

"Yes. The story he told of how you took him in was very touching."

"Every word I told you was true, Mrs. Kent." Looking to his left, Dick met Bruce's intense eyes without flinching. "He and Alfred are like blood to me, now."

Just then, the limo slid easily to a stop in front of their destination. The hotel doorman walked up to the vehicle and opened the car door. As everyone exited the vehicle, Bruce waited by the car lending the ladies a hand. As he pulled Martha from the car, she reached up and kissed his cheek.

With their families safely tucked away, Bruce and Clark set out to check one more errand off the list. They donned their uniforms and headed for the fortress in the batwing. Once there, they headed straight inside.

"Tell me again why we're doing this?"

"I have some pointed questions for the fortress. I don't speak Kryptonian yet so your presence is necessary as a translator."

"Yet, huh?"

"I speak ten languages fluently, Clark. I can hold a decent conversation in another twelve. So yeah, I see no reason why I can't learn Kryptonian."

"Besides," added Bruce as they entered the science center, finding the service robots busy at work. "This child is half-Kryptonian. It will need to know where it comes from and the Kryptonian language is an important part of that."

Taking Bruce's hand, Clark squeezed it gently. Leading them further into the round room, they came to a stop in front of the circle at the center of the room. Letting go of Bruce's hand, Clark stepped up to the edge of the circle and said, "Kelex. Zgham. Sem kulahn khahp rraop raozhuju."

Quickly, the service robot named Kelex separated from his fellow robots and floated over to stand before Clark. With a bowed head, he replied, "Zhi, Kal-El cheh. Sokaokulahn rrup chao chadhrevu khahp rrup."

Looking over his shoulder, Clark found Bruce sitting in his chair, tapping on an electronic pad. As the rapid tapping continued, Clark cleared his throat and said, "Okay, shoot. What do you want to know?"

Without looking up, Bruce never stopped drumming on the small screen as he asked, "What is the child's genetic breakdown?"

"What?"

Finally, the typing stopped. Slowly, Bruce looked up, a puzzled look on his face. Glancing at the ridiculously small machine, he nodded in its direction and ordered, "Just ask the machine the question."

Haltingly, Clark turned away from Bruce. He paused a moment to think of the best way to ask before he translated the question. The computer replied immediately with an answer that shocked Clark. Facing Bruce, he answered, "Seventy-three percent of the child's active genes are Kryptonian and twenty-seven percent are Human."

"As I suspected. What is the gestational age?"

"Ta-kehp aonah eroshuju?" asked Clark. Immediately, the robot responded. The answer made Clark pause then smile. Turning back to Bruce, he said, "Three weeks and two days."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That night after we tangled with Two-Face and his gang?"

"Yes. Kinda romantic, dont'cha you think?"

"I suppose."

Their questions continued in this way with Bruce asking and Kelex answering with Clark acting as the translator. As such, the hour that followed was very tedious, but it did prove to be quite enlightening.

For instance, through Bruce's questioning, Kelex admitted the pregnancy was high-risk. It would require a delicate balance between Clark's health and the health of their unborn child. Clark's exposure to the sun would have to be limited so that his strength could weaken enough so as to not impede the growth of the child. At the same time, he needed to still get some daily sun exposure so that the child's strain on his body wouldn't overpower him. Kelex recommended weekly examinations throughout the pregnancy and Bruce agreed.

Certainly, this information hammered the last nail in the coffin of any hopes Clark carried to continue his hero duties. They discussed various cover stories and finally came up with a plausible lie.

Finally, Bruce asked, "How long is the expected duration of the pregnancy?"

"Ta-balzrhig zehtiahr kav gavrrigiehd?" asked Clark, anxiously.

Sadly, Kelex's answer didn't make him feel better. Facing Bruce, he said, "Kelex says that there is insufficient information at this time to form a conclusion. Kryptonian gestations are 30 weeks long, however this child's growth is not following the typical Kryptonian pattern. Kelex theorizes that the Human genes the child possesses are affecting the gestation period. After further measurements, Kelex is confident the computer will be able to calculate an approximate date of birth."

"Fair enough," replied Bruce as he looked up. Looking directly at Clark, he asked, "Do you want to know the gender?"

"I'm not sure. Do you?"

"I want to know. I'm tired to speaking of our child in the third person like it's some kind of a thing."

"Okay, let's find out then." Turning back to Kelex, Clark asked, "Nahn voiehd aonah unah zu inah?"

"Inah, Kal-El cheh."

"It's- No. She's a girl. A girl. Can you believe it, Bruce?"

A soft smile was his only answer. Putting his pad away, Bruce stood up and took Clark by the hand. Pulling with a sudden jerk, they came together. Arms wrapped around each other. They exchanged a single drawn out kiss before Clark pulled away and dismissed Kelex.

They had only one last thing to do for the wedding.

They flew to the Watchtower without delay. Once there, they called a meeting of the founding members. Within an hour, the seven assembled in the main conference room. Batman and Superman stood at the back of the room as the other five sat at the round table.

Glancing at each other, Bruce nodded at Clark before he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. Taking a deep breath, Clark took a step toward his teammates and said, "Thank you all for coming so quickly."

"Of course, Superman. What's the emergency?" asked Green Lantern.

"I have an announcement to make," explained Clark. Glancing back at Bruce, he clarified, "We have an announcement. I came here to tell you that I will be taking an extended leave of absence. I will need your assistance in protecting both Metropolis and maintaining my cover story."

Alarm rang throughout the small group. Their shocked faces turned up at Clark as he explained, "You're going to hear some reports. From what I understand the news will start airing tonight. Since we know each other's secret identities, I wanted to tell you before word reaches you some other way. Bruce and I are getting married on Friday."

"That's sudden," observed Hawkgirl. "What's the rush?"

"Your wife died not six months ago," chimed in Wonder Woman.

After that, there was silence. The five seated heroes looked distressed as they waited quietly. Finally, one among them popped up with a question amidst a fit of laughter.

"What is this some kind of a shotgun wedding or something?"

Suddenly, the Flash cried out as he was struck twice on the back of the head. Glaring at Wonder Woman first, then at Green Lantern, the Flash didn't notice the blush that ran across Superman's face, but everyone else did. Their stunned silence and shock filled faces met Clark as he clarified, "It's not a shotgun wedding, but my pregnancy is the reason for my leave of absence."

His straight forward words did not make the information easier to digest. The five members of the league glanced back and forth at each other before one among them asked another question.

"How did that happen?"

This time, after the two smacks on the back of his head, the Flash looked up just in time to see Clark's face turn bright red. From his position at the back of the room, Batman growled. Pushing off the wall, he charged over to the table, leaned toward the Flash and growled, "In the usual way."

Swallowing hard, the Flash nodded quickly. As the Dark Knight withdrew, the Flash sagged in his chair. As he tried to disappear, he heard Green Lantern whisper, "What is wrong with you?"

"I just wanted to know if magic was involved."

"It wasn't," answered Clark. Taking in a deep breath, he exhaled slowly before he continued, "Due to my Kryptonian biology, I am able to conceive and carry a child. This child is already placing a great strain on my body. For the last three days, I have been unable to perform my superhero duties. Bruce has been doing double duty between Metropolis and Gotham, but he can't keep doing it alone."

"I, that is to say, Clark Kent, will be moving to Gotham City after our wedding. Once the baby is born, I will return to my superhero duties in Metropolis, but from now on, Clark Kent will be residing in Wayne Manor."

"We've been told by my Fortress computers that it will be about seven months before the baby is born. After that, it is unknown how much time I will need to recuperate. As this may take up the better part of a year, we have come up with a cover story. I will hold a press conference tomorrow where I will inform the world that I have been asked by an extra-terrestrial government to journey to their planet in deep space on a peace building mission. I will inform the press that the Justice League will be covering my duties to Metropolis until I can return."

"You want us to deceive the other members of the league," stated J'onn.

"I want your help to maintain my secret identity and I don't want too many people knowing about my current condition."

Again, there was silence. Finally, the Flash stood up. Stepping away from his seat, he walked around the table, stopping once he stood in front of Clark.

"We've always had each other's backs. We've entrusted each other with our secret identities. What's one more secret?" Turning back to the table, he asked, "Am I right, guys?"

Nodding, they agreed unanimously. Quickly, they all stood as the Flash turned back to Clark and extended his hand. "Congratulations, Clark."

As they shook hands, the Flash nodded at Batman and whispered, "Bruce."

In response, Batman returned the gesture, coming to stand beside Clark. After the others in the room drew closer, the Flash looked at Bruce and Clark and said, "May your days be long and full of happiness. May your children be many and full of health. And may they live in peace and freedom."*

The stunned silence that followed was directed entirely at the Flash. After a couple seconds, the scarlet speedster glanced around at the slack jaws and rolled his eyes, "Come on, people. We all come from somewhere."

At the continued confusion and disbelief in their eyes, he added, "I didn't dye my hair red, y'know."

After his comments, Wonder Woman was the first to recover from the shock. As her lips slowly spread into a wide, warm smile, Batman recovered. Coming toe-to-toe with the Flash, he shook his hand as he looked him directly in the eye. "Thank you, Wally."

Letting go of his hand, Batman addressed the group. "We've endured much together. We make a good team and, once again, you have proven why."

"We wish you could stand beside us during our wedding as you have stood beside us through everything else," echoed Clark. Slowly, he looked each one in the eye before he leaned toward Bruce and whispered, "We need to go now."

After a volley of congratulations and goodbyes, the duo left, first the room and then, the Watchtower altogether.

Back in the conference room, the Flash gestured for the group to huddle as he said, "I've got an idea..."

The next three days flew by.

As Friday morning dawned, Bruce and Clark woke in separate rooms, in different buildings, across town from each other. It was Martha's idea. It was tradition, she said. It was important, she insisted. As was so often the case, people found it hard to say no to her. That's how Bruce found himself in an unfamiliar bed, in a suite of rooms, at the same hotel he reserved for the wedding guests.

Back at his apartment, Clark sat up in bed. After rubbing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath, smelling the pleasant aroma of coffee. Throwing back the covers, he stretched as he stood and followed the scent to the kitchen. There, his mother was already pouring out a steaming cup. As he accepted the mug, he couldn't help laughing at the animated manner in which she pranced around in her robe, the curlers in her hair bouncing as she plated his breakfast.

Over at the hotel, Bruce was having a hard time finding anything to laugh about. He was tired. He was mad at the fact he had to sleep alone in a strange bed. To top it all off, he found himself sharing a suite with two grown men who were accustomed to rising early. A light sleeper by nature, the clink and clatter from the common area jarred him awake. Grumbling incomprehensible things, he plodded out of his room. Immediately, strong hands were on his shoulders steering him to the bathroom. He turned to protest, but Alfred quickly placed towels in his arms and spun him back towards the door.

An hour later, Clark emerged from his bedroom. His mother was in the finishing stages of her hair and make-up when she looked up to see her son dressed in his tux. Suddenly, her fingers fluttered to her throat, to rest lightly over the lump securely lodged there. Walking up to him, she softly placed a trembling hand on his cheek. As he turned into the caress, a single tear ran down her cheek. Quickly she pulled away, a strangled air of laughter escaping her as she brushed the tear away.

Steam poured from the bathroom as Bruce appeared. Fully dressed, he found the suite quite crowded with Dick, Barbara and Jonathan seated at the table while Alfred served a light breakfast off the room service cart. Approaching the group, he met Alfred's cheerful expression. He watched as a chair was pulled out for him and a plate of poached eggs, diced fruit and a single buttered roll was placed before him. After he continued to stand stiffly, a comforting pat on his shoulder spurred him into action. Nodding to the others, he sat quickly and started to eat.

Finally, the limo turned the corner and the courthouse came into view. As they pulled up, Jonathan and Barbara were standing at the curb. They exchanged hugs quickly and raced for the front doors as camera flashes followed. In the lobby, another set of reporters and photographers waited. They easily avoided them, but as they loaded into the elevator, Clark saw Jimmy and Cat. The matched set of disapproving frowns confirmed for Clark that he did the right thing not inviting anyone from the Daily Planet.

Up in the judge's chambers, Bruce stood with Dick, making the final preparations. Taking a hold of Dick's hand, Bruce turned it palm up and firmly placed in it the rings and the marriage license. With a nod, Dick slipped the former in the left outer pocket of his tuxedo jacket and slid the latter in the inner pocket. One last pat on the arm and Bruce turned away to exchange pleasantries with the Honorable Judge Ronald J. Schwartz.

Halfway through a story about his parent's wedding, Alfred appeared. Dick met him at the door and exchanged whispers and conspiratorial glances. As Dick quietly left the room, Alfred excused himself and broke the lively conversation taking place. He asked the judge to show him the courtroom so that final preparations could be made. Cheerfully, the judge agreed and gestured to the side door that led directly there.

As they disappeared, a soft knock came to the door and a moment later Dick poked in his head and whispered, "Is he gone?"

"Who?"

"Judge Schwartz."

"Yes."

"Good," answered Dick as he opened the door, holding it as the founding members of the Justice League entered the room in full costume.

Standing stiffly, his eyes widened. Looking at the side door, he quickly said, "Judge Schwartz could come back any minute."

"Alfred is running interference for us," assured the Flash. "So, we've got a few minutes anyway."

His stunned eyes quickly narrowing, Bruce looked from one to the other, seeking an explanation

Stepping forward, the Flash put it plainly, "If you want to get mad at somebody, get mad at me. This was my idea."

"And what idea is that exactly?"

"We wanted to attend the wedding, so I had GL use an energy bubble to fly us all here while J'onn used his mental powers to make us invisible to passersby."

"You want to attend the wedding dressed like that?"

"Of course not. We all brought a change of clothes. Well, everyone except J'onn."

Seeing the doubt in Bruce's eyes, the Flash assured, "All the judge and his staff will ever need to know is that we're your friends and we came to attend the wedding."

"How will you get out of here without being seen?"

"After the wedding, we'll change back into costume and leave the way we came."

"That's brilliant."

"Yeah, it is a pretty good plan, isn't it?"

"You really came up with this all by yourself?"

"You wound me, sir," he replied as he placed a hand over his chest. Taking a small bow, he confirmed with a nod.

Behind him, four heads bobbed in agreement. After that, they waited quietly for Batman to respond. In the middle of the staring contest, Dick said, from his post by the door, "The judge is coming! Scatter!"

Coming back to his senses, Bruce slapped Wally firmly on the arm and smiled. With a nod, he ushered them out to the hallway and pointed at the restrooms down the hall. Quickly, they ran off as Bruce returned to the judge's chamber and closed the door behind him.

A couple minutes later, Barbara and the Kents arrived at the courtroom. Pulling at the doors, they found them locked and backed away to make their to the judge's chambers. As they turned the corner, Clark saw John Jones standing in the hallway. In disbelief, he walked up to him, a question dying on his lips as John closed his eyes and sent him the whole episode from the judge's chambers.

Stumbling back, Clark shook his head as the vision came into view. Just as the whole incident played out in his mind, John Stewart stepped out of the restroom dressed in a single-breasted black suit with a hunter green tie. A moment later, Shayera walked out of the other restroom. A charcoal gray wrap concealed her wings while revealing the strapless hunter green pencil dress she wore underneath.

Standing side by side, Shayera and John smiled warmly at Clark as he recovered from the shock. Alfred chose that moment to open the door to the judge's chambers and announce, "If all the guests will please enter the courtroom. The wedding will be starting shortly."

Together, the group followed Alfred back to the courtroom. There, as he held the door open, they entered the room. The last to enter, Clark marveled at the elegant arrangements of white lilies and cascading baby's breath tastefully placed around the judicial bench. The gentle sprays of white flowers created a visual effect that drew your eyes to their center where Bruce stood patiently waiting. Charging down the center aisle, Clark pushed open the swing gate and claimed his place beside Bruce. Facing each other, they smiled as the people around them settled into good spots to view all the action.

Out in the hallway, Diana left the restroom dressed in a Jackie-O inspired two-piece, pink jacket and dress suit set complete with pillbox hat and low heel pumps. She stood quietly wondering where the others had gone when she heard a door open and close behind her. Turning around, she gasped when she saw Wally emerge from the men's room dressed in a light gray suit with a matching shirt and a midnight blue silk tie.

"You look beautiful as ever, princess," he said with a smirk. Enjoying her reaction, Wally tilted his chin a little higher as he approached her. She was still taking in the perfectly combed red hair when he offered his arm and softly asked, "Shall we?"

"Yes, I'd like that," replied Diana as she slipped her hand around his bicep.

Together, they slipped in next to the other members of the Justice League. Exchanging warm smiles, they closed the little distance between them just as Judge Schwartz entered the room dressed in his robe.

Calmly, he raised his hands and silence filled the room. Focusing on Bruce and Clark, he smiled and patted their shoulders before clasping his hands together, letting them hang loosely. Patiently, he waited for the group to close in and for everyone to find a good view. Softly, he cleared his throat, garnering everyone's attention. Once all eyes were on him, he announced, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of these two young men - Bruce and Clark...

_-{()}-_

*This is the matrimonial toast from the classic film, "The Quiet Man."


End file.
